Chapter 3

I barely had time to wipe the security footage and get out of Sophia' s office before the doorbell rang. I limped to the door, my leg throbbing, my mind racing. Why was she here?

I opened it. Mrs. Davis stood there, dressed in a Chanel suit, her eyes sweeping over me with open contempt. She didn't wait for an invitation, just pushed past me into the foyer.

"So this is the gilded cage Sophia keeps you in," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "It's bigger than I thought. I suppose she needs a lot of room for her charity projects."

My jaw tightened. "What do you want, Mrs. Davis?"

She turned to face me, a cruel smirk on her lips. "I came to see Sophia. But seeing you is... an added bonus. Chloe is hosting a small get-together tonight. For Mark's promotion. You remember Mark, don't you, Ethan?"

The name was a punch to the gut. "I remember him."

"Of course you do," she said, her eyes lingering on the scars on my face. "He's doing so well. And Chloe is so happy. It's a shame what happened, but I suppose everything worked out for the best. For the people who matter, anyway."

She was baiting me. She wanted a reaction. I gave her nothing. I just stood there, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, my voice flat.

"Because I want you to know your place," she snapped, her composure cracking. "You are nothing. A broken man living off the pity of a woman who felt sorry for you. My daughter is a queen in this city. And you? You're a ghost. A bad memory."

Just then, the door opened again. Mark Johnson walked in, a wide, fake smile on his face. He was holding a bottle of expensive champagne.

"Eleanor, I told you to wait in the car," he said, feigning light-hearted disapproval. Then he looked at me. "Ethan! Good to see you up and about. You're looking... better."

His eyes, like hers, went straight to my scars. He was enjoying this.

Mrs. Davis stepped closer to me, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Mark is a real man, Ethan. He takes care of Chloe. He gives her what she needs. Unlike you. You couldn't even watch her brother for ten minutes."

That was it. The dam broke. "Get out of my house," I said, my voice low and shaking with rage.

Mark stepped between us, putting a hand on my chest. "Hey, calm down, buddy. She's just upset. We all are, still."

"Don't touch me," I snarled, shoving his hand away.

Mrs. Davis saw her opening. She lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. The force of it sent me stumbling backward. My bad leg buckled, and I crashed to the marble floor, a searing pain shooting up from my ankle.

They both just stood there, looking down at me. Mark with a look of fake concern, Mrs. Davis with pure, triumphant hatred.

At that exact moment, the main elevator door slid open, and Sophia stepped out. She took in the scene in a single, sweeping glance: me on the floor, Mark and Mrs. Davis standing over me.

Her face became a mask of cold fury. "What is going on here?"

"Sophia, darling," Mrs. Davis said, her tone instantly changing to one of sweet reason. "We just stopped by to say hello. Ethan had a... a dizzy spell. He fell."

Sophia's eyes met mine. I saw no sympathy there. Only annoyance. This was an inconvenience. A mess she had to clean up.

"Mark, help him up," she commanded.

Mark reached down, and I flinched away from his touch. I pushed myself up, using a nearby table for support. Every part of me burned with humiliation.

"Eleanor, Mark, perhaps it's best if you leave," Sophia said, her voice polite but firm. "Ethan needs his rest."

"Of course," Mrs. Davis said, giving me one last, venomous look. "We were just leaving."

As they walked towards the door, I heard Mark whisper to her, his voice carrying clearly in the silent house. "See? I told you he was pathetic. Utterly broken."

Mrs. Davis let out a small, cruel laugh.

Sophia didn't react. She just waited until they were gone, then turned to me. "Are you alright?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. The rage and shame were choking me.

"Go get them a bottle of the '98 Chateau Margaux from the cellar, Ethan," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "A peace offering. We need to maintain appearances."

It wasn't a request. It was an order. I had to fetch a gift for the people who had just assaulted and humiliated me in my own home. My compensation.

I limped towards the cellar, the weight of their laughter pressing down on me. As I passed the entryway, my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

It was a picture of me, on the floor, taken just moments ago. Below it, a single line of text from Mark.

`Just a reminder of what you are.`

I stared at the screen, my vision blurring. The humiliation wasn't enough. The pain wasn't enough. They wanted to grind me into dust.

Fine. Let them try.

As I descended the stairs into the cold, dark cellar, I made a promise to myself. I wasn't just going to expose them. I was going to burn their entire world to the ground.